


Promises, Promises

by Draegaa



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, hopefully no tags i missed, some canon divergence, sort of pro-edelgard, this is pretty dang sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draegaa/pseuds/Draegaa
Summary: Sylvain breaks every promise he makes, except one.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't get this out of my head since recruiting Felix and fighting Syl at Tailtean. :( I love these boys, and maybe one day I'll write them a happier ending.

Sylvain would never claim that he didn’t break promises. He broke them all the time. Spent his days cooing brittle promises into the ear whichever young man or woman caught his eye, without even bothering to cross his fingers behind his back. So in most cases, to most people, Sylvain would consider his own word to be worth less than the breath taken to whisper it.

But not when it came to Felix. Ironically, most people would consider a promise made between two little boys, breathless with play, to be something no one would ever expect to keep. Sylvain sometimes had doubts if Felix still held that promise as dearly as he did, but whenever he looked into those fierce, vermillion eyes, his doubt fled. Felix had become prickly, aloof, and could be downright mean, but he had a heart as true as steel. 

That day they made their promise was still so clear in his mind. He was nine, Felix seven, and Autumn had arrived in northeast Faerghus. The air was dry and crisp, trees aflame with color, the sky so blue it left one gasping. They had been running around the gardens and many wooded paths and glades near Castle Fraldarius, chasing each other in turns, whacking dented wooden weapons together (Felix was already skilled enough to disarm him), and wrestling like puppies. 

His heart was light in this place, as it never was back in Gautier. No stern father to lecture him about his duties as a crest-bearing heir. No Miklan to pinch and bruise his young body, glaring hate and despair at him. Here in Duchy Fraldarius, he was free. 

“Wait up, Felix!”

They had collapsed in the fallen leaves, panting and filthy. Sylvain was curled on his side, watching the smaller boy grinning up at the clear, clear sky, eyes bright with happiness, night-blue hair tangled and dotted with twigs and leaf litter. Felix turned to face Sylvain, his expression turning serious, reaching out to gently hold his hand. 

“We’ll always be together, right?”

Sylvain had grinned and scoffed, poking Felix lightly in the forehead. “Well I haven’t been able to get rid of you yet.”

Felix had sat up and scowled down at him, a mirror of his older self. “I’m being serious. Let’s make a promise, Sylvain. No matter what, neither one of us will die without the other one. We won’t leave each other alone.”

Even then, it had been hard to resist Felix at his most sincere. The younger boy had a talent for finding his way past the walls that Sylvain built. Then and now and always. And so Sylvain had sat up, squeezed Felix’s hand and promised, before pulling him into a tight hug. 

* * *

Felix snarled at him like an angry cat, ember eyes blazing. “How can you stay here? You would follow Edelgard? After all she’s done?” His voice cracked slightly as he demanded, “You would betray Dimitri? Faerghus?”

Sylvain’s resolve almost broke when Felix actually spoke the Prince’s name (how long had it been?) He was certain he would have crumbled if Felix had accused him of a more personal betrayal. Even Felix wouldn’t use that against him, however. Perhaps there was still a chance. 

He had seen all the evidence of the righteousness of Edelgard’s cause. The corruption of the Church, the history of lies about Crests and Relics, the stunting of humanity’s growth in the name of a false Goddess. He could have swayed just about anyone to the side of the Empire. But Sylvain’s silver tongue failed him in the face of Felix’s pain and rage, and he could only sputter out a weak and broken defense. 

“Felix, please. I have to do this. Come with me. This world is fucked up, we’ve all been hurt by it. Edelgard, the Professor, Mercedes, all the Black Eagles. They want to change the world, make it better, fairer. I have to help them.” Felix looked at him. Still angry, but less certain. Hope sparked in Sylvain’s chest.

“ _I have to help._ I can’t watch this wretched world go by anymore. I can’t be worthless anymore.”

His voice had dropped to a harsh whisper as his body leaned unconsciously toward Felix. Sylvain reached a hand up to gently cup the side of Felix’s neck, thumb caressing the side of his jaw. 

“ _Sylvain…”_

“Come with me,” he repeated softly. “Dimitri is _lost_. You saw him. He is not the prince anymore, or the boy we knew.” Felix tensed, drawing back out of Sylvain’s reach. 

_Damn your loyal heart, Fraldarius! You owe him nothing anymore._

That spark of hope guttered and died as Felix backed away from him, tense and silent as a cornered beast. His expression went totally blank before he turned swiftly and fled out one of the side passages, leaving Sylvain reaching for nothing, mouth open around useless words.

* * *

Years passed as the war ebbed and flowed, the Empire gaining and losing ground in the Kingdom and the Alliance. The Flame Emperor moved across the lands of Galatea and Charon bringing war and famine relief in equal measure. Sylvain was stationed at Myrddin when he heard news of the fall of Ingrid’s house. She lived (he allowed himself to feel relief at that), and served now in the Tempest King’s personal guard. 

Gaspard surrendered without a fight after Ashe took his place as Lord Ubert. Sylvain was there to see him knighted by Edelgard, and was surprised to feel genuine happiness for the man. He had certainly earned it with his work peaceably bringing several provinces into the Empire with minimal bloodshed. Gaining Gaspard left the path to the lands of House Rowe wide open, allowing their forces to finally march upon Arianrhod, the Silver Maiden.

Sylvain was joking with Dorothea about how the fortress would need a new nickname when they were done with it. She rolled her eyes and slapped him lightly on the stomach. Edelgard raised one eyebrow as she walked up to them, returning Dorothea’s cheerful greeting before turning to Sylvain with a serious expression.

“I wanted to let you know, Sylvain. The aerial scouts have returned from Arianrhod, and the Fraldarius banner has been spotted within the walls.” His blood ran cold. Dorothea laid a warm hand on his forearm, and Edelgard gazed at him with what might have been pity.

“I can give you an assignment somewhere else, just say the word. You don’t have to be with the Strike Force when we march for the fortress tomorrow.”

Pity, then. Or compassion. Sylvain felt his walls come up, almost against his will, shoulders forcibly relaxing, an easy grin plastered onto his face. “That’s sweet, Your Majesty, but I’ll be fine. I haven’t seen a Fraldarius in years, and it’s not every day a man gets to deflower a huge castle!”

Both women looked skeptical and vaguely sad. After pinning him with her gaze for several silent moments, Edelgard nodded. “Okay, Sylvain. I appreciate your dedication.” 

Dorothea smiled sadly at him before taking the Emperor’s arm and letting the smaller woman guide her away.

Sylvain found a willing body to fuck that night, and kicked the soldier out afterwards. He did not sleep.

* * *

_Felix. Felix I’m sorry._

They found each other on the drawbridge to Arianrhod, the rest of the battle blurring to nothing as their eyes met. Sylvain’s heart beat like a drum in his ears, making it difficult to hear Felix’s words.

“Hello, Sylvain. It’s been a long time.” His voice was low, and Sylvain thought he heard a slight waver. 

“Hi, Felix. You look good.” And Goddess help him, he _did._ He was taller than before, and lithe as a panther, thigh high leather boots hugging his well-muscled legs. His coat and fur-lined half-cloak were dyed a vivid ocean blue that contrasted strikingly with his eyes. His deep blue hair was tied up in an elaborate style, stray locks falling down onto his forehead. He was _beautiful._

“Remember that promise we made? That we would die together?”

A world of pain opened in Felix’s eyes. “I…remember.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Felix. And I don’t want to die. Please, you can still join us.” 

“I can’t. Glenn died to protect the Prince, the King. My father would die for the same reason. I cannot leave them.” 

Sylvain felt desperate tears pricking at his eyes, his breathing becoming shallow with pain and despair. “Well at least we’ll die together.”

Felix pointed his sword at Sylvain’s chest. “Sorry, Sylvain. You’ll die first.”

He barely had time to bring his lance up to block Felix’s attack, swift as a striking viper. The blade of the sword bit deep into the hard wood of the shaft, and Sylvain knew not to try that twice. Adrenaline flowed through him as they fought, brutal strike after brutal strike, parried and blocked. Until they weren’t. Until both blades found their marks, biting into vulnerable flesh, gliding through vital organs.

Both men withdrew their weapons with mild shock on their faces, and collapsed simultaneously. 

Sylvain’s breath shuddered wetly, blood bubbling out of his mouth as he crawled to the other man, sprawled nearby in his own gore. Felix was still conscious, and moaned quietly as he saw the extent of Sylvain’s injury. A mortal injury. 

Their wounds bled freely, mixing with the rain and torn earth outside the gates of Arianrhod. Sylvain was curled on his side, watching the younger man panting up at the cold, grey sky, eyes glassy with pain, night-blue hair tangled and matted with blood and mud.

Felix closed his eyes, and Sylvain reached to grasp his hand, cool and slick with gore. A weak squeeze in return let him know his friend was still here. Sylvain closed his own eyes against the pain. The hand held in his own relaxed, and he opened his eyes to see brilliant red-orange. Bright as maple leaves in Autumn. Felix gazed back at him. Unseeing. 

Sylvain felt light, like he would float away. He used a last burst of strength to scoot closer to Felix and lay his arm over his chest. The edges of his vision went white.

The sky turned brilliant blue.

He was free. They were both of them free.

_Wait up, Felix!_


End file.
